UC-NRLF 


L  I 


~  . 


IN   DIVERS  TONES. 


BY  THE 
SAME   AUTHOR. 

VERSES. 


i6mo.     129  pp.     Cloth.     $1.25. 


BOSTON  :    J.  G.  CUPPLES  CO. 


IN    DIVERS   TONES 


BY 


25otoen 
n 


BOSTON 

J.  G.  CUPPLES   CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
SSacfc  ^a 
94  BOYLSTON  ST 
1890 


f'v 


COPYRIGHT,  1890, 
By  HKRBBRT  WOLCOTT  BOWBN. 


All  rights  reserved. 


Cupple*  preatf:  9&o*ton. 

FRINTBD   BY   J.   G.   CUPPLBS  COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

A  SYLVAN  SCENE    9 

WHEN  BOOKS  WERE  FEW 17 

A  RECONCILIATION 18 

LINES  ON  A  BEAUTIFUL  LADY 20 

IN  CAPTIVITY 22 

INDEFINABLE            ...                 ....  23 

THE  WORKS  OF  MAN  AND  OF  NATURE                 .         .  25 

THE  ORDER  OF  THINGS  is  CHANGING           ...  26 

FAIR  MONTH  OF  MAY 27 

UNHEARD 28 

LIFE  SONG 29 

LIFE 30 

To  LORRAINE,  WITH  A  ROSE 31 

To  A  THRUSH          ......  32 

WHEN  FIRST  I  LOOKED  ON  THEE  33 

A  MESSAGE      .                                                                      .  34 
FLOWER  SONG         ...                                          -35 

I   YEARN   FOR   THEE             .                                                                           .  36 

LORRAINE         .  .38 

BOWER  SONG           .                                                          .  39 

5 


PAOI 

THINK  EYES 40 

WITHOUT  AND  WITHIN                    41 

DOST  THOI    KNOW  ?                 42 

I>   Lin:   \\OKIII  LIVING  ? 43 

•  IN  SORROW      ......  44 

!\  ANSWER   ro  A  FROWN- 4^ 

GRO\                                    .                  46 

A   CONFESSION         , 47 

DKI  \\II.M.   AND  WAKING         ......  48 

FIKI  -IDE  ILLUSIONS        .                 51 

IT  SONG            52 

53 

WITHOUT  THEK 54 

AT  SUNSET      .                          55 

THE  PURSUIT 56 

REST 58 

DUM  VIVIMUS  VIVAMUS           ......  60 

PURSUE  THY  WAY                   61 

MISINTERPRETATIONS 62 

OEM  TV  AND  LOVE                            63 

ART  HAS  NO  BOUNDARIES      .  64 

LOVE'S  BEG  i                NTD  END        .        .        .        .        .  65 

A  COMFORTING  THOUGHT                                                .  66 

•  OUR  RELIGION                                                                 .  67 

A  COMPARISON        .                                                             .  68 
ER  TO  A  NOTE  01     :  i 

FRIENDS                                             .         .  70 
6 


PAGE 

Lois 71 

EPITAPH 72 

WHAT  FOLLOWED? 73 

FAITHFUL 74 

How  SHE  WON  HIM 75 

IN  MEMORIAM  ULYSSES  S.  GRANT        ....  76 

AMERICANS 78 

NATIONAL  HYMN 79 

A  NARROW  VIEW 80 

A  REBUKE  —  UNSPOKEN 81 

SAPPHO             82 

To  GERALDINE 84 

THE  REVERIE  OF  A  SPINSTER       .....  85 

THOUGHTS  ON  SEEING  A  BELLE             ....  86 

ILLS,  PRESENT  AND  PAST 87 

IN  THE  CAMPO  SANTO 88 

LITTLE  PHIL 89 

To  MADELEINE 90 

AFTER  MEETING  A  POET 91 

A  READY  CONCESSION 92 

SHE  WAS  WONDROUS  FAIR             93 

HAPPINESS 94 

PREJUDICES      .                          95 

A  CRITICISM 96 

EPITAPH           .........  97 

SURVIVAL  OF  THE  LESS  FIT          ...  98 

WAIT  A  WHILE 99 


PAGB 

ALONE    ..........  100 

LOVE    ONCE   GONE    IS    GONE    FOREVER  IOI 

Tin;  PURPOSE  OF  PAIN         ....  .102 

ALAS!  POOR  TREE 103 

MBER  ME      ....                  ...  104 

i  RASTS 10^ 

COMPENSATION      .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  106 

TIIKN  AND  Now    ........  107 

A  CHANCE  MEETING 108 

EVERY  HEART  's  A  SHRINE 109 

ILLUSIONS no 

PLEASURES in 

A  COMPARISON 112 

CONSOLATION         .        . 113 

LOST       ...  .  .114 

LIKE  A  LEAF         ...                 ....  115 

A  LONELY  WAY .  n6 

FAR  AWAY 117 

Too  LATE .        .        .  118 

IN  MY  WAKEFUL  HOURS     .        .        .                .        .  119 

DEAD 120 

MY  SWEET  LORRAINI  ,  MY  FAIR  LORRAINE       .         .  121 

\  ELIOT  BOWEN 122 

VIM                    123 

8 


IN  DIVERS  TONES. 


A  SYLVAN  SCENE. 

DRAMATIS    PERSONS  I    UNKNOWN. 

A  young  lady  climbs  over  a  rail-fence,  and  on  reaching 
the  ground  is  accosted  by  a  young  man  who  has  been 
watching  her  from  behind  a  tree. 

HE. 

GOOD  morning,  fair  maid  !  — 
Nay  :  be  not  afraid  ! 
Before-  have  we  met. 
Why  then  be  so  rude 
As  to  hasten  away  ? 
Thy  name  I  forget, 
But  here  in  the  wood, 
Last  summer,  one  day, 
Exchanged  we  a  greeting. 
Dost  remember  the  meeting  ? 
9 


SHE. 

Suppose  I  say  yes  f 

HE. 

Thou  canst  not  say  less ; 
So  add,  pray,  with  pleasure. 

SHE. 
One's  words  one  should  measure. 

HE. 

In  court,  not  in  courting, — 
Forgive  my  retorting. 

SHE. 
I  beg  thee  desist. 

HE. 
I  cannot  resist. 

SHE. 

What  ?  being  so  witty  ? 

HE. 
No  ;  one  that  's  so  pretty. 

SHE. 
Thou  darest  to  flatter  ? 

HE. 
I  dare,  —  but  no  matter. 

JO 


SHE. 

Go  on  !  I  command  thee. 

HE. 
No,  no  ;  I  '11  withstand  thee. 

SHE. 

I  thought  thou  didst  say, 
"  T  is  hard  to  resist  "  ? 

HE. 

I  thought  thou  didst  pray, 
"I  beg  thee  desist." 

SHE. 
Suppose  I  say  yes  f 

HE. 

Thou  canst  not  say  less ; 
So  add,  with  regret. 

SHE. 
To  add  makes  me  fret. 

HE. 
I  *d  soothe  thee,  and  quiet. 

SHE. 

Suppose  I  should  try  it, 
Pray,  how  wouldst  thou  soothe  ? 


HE. 

Thy  brow  I  would  smooth 
In  this  gentle  way. 

(Smooths  her  brow.) 

SHE. 

And  show  me  now,  pray, 

How  "  quiet  "  thou  'dst  make  me. 

HE. 

(Draws  her  to  his  breast.} 
In  my  arms  thus  I  'd  take  thee, 
And  thy  speech  I  'd  confine, 
With  my  lips  pressed  to  thine. 

(Kisses  her.} 
SHE. 

For  shame  !  let  me  go  ! 

HE. 

Suppose  I  say  no  — 
Would  it  cause  you  distress  ? 

SHE. 

Thou  canst  not  say  less  : 
So  add  — 

HE. 
I  adore  thee ! 

12 


SHE. 

Repeat,  I  implore  thee ! 

HE. 

(Releases  her.) 
But  hush ! 

SHE. 
(Excitedly.) 

Some  one  's  calling. 

HE. 

Intrusion  most  galling  ! 

But  I  '11  pass  for  thy  brother. 

SHE. 
Thou  canst  not  ;  't  is  mother. 

HE. 
Then  I  '11  pass  from  thy  sight, 

(Tenderly.) 
From  day  unto  night. 

SHE. 
Farewell !  do  not  kiss  me. 

(Submits) 

HE. 
I  '11  fly.     Wilt  thou  miss  me  ? 


SHE. 

0  go  !  I  entreat ! 

HE. 

1  '11  fly,  I  repeat. 

(Does  not  move.) 

SHE. 

There  she  is ! 

HE. 
Has- she  seen  us? 

SHE. 

There 's  a  tree  now  between  us. 
Besides,  she 's  near-sighted. 

HE. 
She  is?  I'm  delighted. 

SHE. 

O  look !  there 's  another ! 

HE. 
Who  is  it  ? 

SHE. 

(Alarmed.) 
My  brother. 


HE. 

By  Jove ! 

SHE. 

(Still  more  alarmed?) 

And  old  Fido 
He  has  at  his  side,  oh  ! 

HE. 

If  I  wait  I  shall  see 
Thy  whole  family  tree. 

SHE. 
Ogo! 

HE. 

Well,  good-by  ! 

(Kisses  her  and  turns  away?) 

SHE. 

Don't  forget  me ! 

HE. 

Not  I. 

SHE. 

(Dejectedly,  to  herself?) 
Thus  joy  ends  in  sorrow. 

15 


HE. 

(Turning  round.) 
Let's  meet  here  — 

SHE. 
(Enthusiastically.) 

To-morrow  ! 

(They  kiss  their  hands  to  each  other.) 
16 


WHEN  BOOKS  WERE  FEW. 

ROUNDEL. 

WHEN  books  were  few,  life  must  have  been 
Embittered  more  with  pain  and  rue. 
Time  must  have  had  an  awful  mien 
When  books  were  few. 

And  yet  the  sky  was  just  as  blue, 
The  fields  were  just  as  fair  and  green, 
And  hearts  were  just  as  fond  and  true. 

Who  knows  but  man  was  more  serene, 
And  quicker,  deeper  comfort  drew 
From  every  living  source  and  scene, 
When  books  were  few. 
17 


A  RECONCILIATION. 

HE  found  her  in  her  room, 
Half  hidden  in  the  gloom, 

And  humming 
A  plaintive  little  air 
That  tells  of  love's  despair 

The  coming. 

She  brushed  her  tears  aside, 
And  from  the  past  she  tried 

To  borrow 

A  smile  to  make  him  feel 
At  ease,  and  to  conceal 

Her  sorrow. 

But,  for  his  cruel  course, 
The  air  to  deep  remorse 
Had  moved  him  :  — 
18 


He  oft  had  sung  it,  too, 
Before  he  ever  knew 
She  loved  him. 

He  raised  his  eyes  above, 
Of  his  undying  love 

In  token ; 

When  with  a  sob  he  knelt 
Beside  her,  and  he  felt 

Heart-broken. 

She  clasped  him  to  her  breast, 
Which  he  had  so  distrest 

And  wounded, 
And  said,  in  him  once  more 
Her  faith  was,  as  before, 

"Unbounded." 

He  ne'er  forgot  the  word, 
And  ne'er  again  he  heard 

Her  humming 
The  plaintive  little  air 
That  tells  of  love's  despair 

The  coming. 

19 


LINES  ON  A  BEAUTIFUL  LADY. 

TO    A    BEAUTIFUL    GIRL. 

SHE,  too,  had  beauty  plenty 
When  she  was  one-and-twenty  ; 
And  no  one  ever  started 
In  life  more  sunny-hearted 

Than  she. 

Her  lovers,  too,  were  many  ; 
And  of  them  all  not  any 
There  was  but  would  have  given 
His  hope  of  going  to  heaven, 

Her  slave  on  earth  to  be. 

She  still  had  beauty  plenty 
When  she  was  five-and-twenty, 
And  'rose  where  she  'd  been  kneeling, 
While  all  the  bells  were  pealing, 
A  bride. 

20 


Ah,  yes  !  she  looked  so  queenly, 
One  could  not  gaze  serenely 
Upon  her,  though  one  never, 
Perchance,  had  dreamed  he  ever 
Might  stand  there  at  her  side. 

She  still  has  beauty  plenty, 
Though  now  twice  five-and-twenty  ; 
But  deeper  'tis  and  rarer ; 
For  'tis  her  soul  that  fairer 

Has  grown. 

Ay,  wounded  oft  and  gravely, 
She 's  fought  her  battles  bravely, 
And  sacrificed  to  duty 
Her  superficial  beauty, 

As  you  too  would  your  own. 

21 


IN  CAPTIVITY. 

I  OFTEN,  on  a  sunny  day, 

Look  far  away 
Beyond  my  work,  and  looking,  dream 

That  by  a  stream, 
Or  over  meadows  fresh  and  fair, 

Without  a  care 

I  wander ;  and  the  while  I  give 
My  heart  and  soul  to  all  I  see ; 
And  then  it  is  I  truly  live. 
But  startled  recollection  brings 
Me  back  to  sad  reality  — 
Of  life  and  fate  I  then  complain ; 

But  all  in  vain : 
I  'm  like  a  captive  bird  that  sings 

Of  joyous  things, 
Then  beats  his  cage  with  wretched  wings. 

22 


INDEFINABLE. 

ALL  efforts  to  define  it 
In  words  were  incomplete  : 

'T  is  something  grand  and  thrilling  ; 
'T  is  something  subtly  sweet. 

In  certain  strains  of  music 
Its  haunting  voice  I  hear ; 

In  poems  oft,  and  paintings, 
It  leaves  a  smile  or  tear. 

Then  too  I  see  it,  feel  it, 
In  nature,  here  and  there ; 

And  in  my  heart  it  lingers, 
Like  perfume  in  the  air. 

But  even  in  the  moment 

I  think  it  is  my  own, 
To  guard  and  keep  forever,  — 

Like  perfume  it  is  gone. 
23 


And  then  my  heart  feels  empty, 

And,  musing,  I  repeat, 
'T  is  something  grand  and  thrilling, 

Tis  something  subtly  sweet. 
24 


THE  WORKS  OF  MAN  AND  OF 
NATURE. 

SONNET. 

THE  works  of  man  are  always  incomplete 
However  much  he  has  of  sacred  fire, 
And  always  leave  us  something  to  desire. 

His  own  ill-judgment,  faults,  and  failings  cheat 

His  care,  and  in  his  every  work  repeat 
Themselves  :  so  all  in  vain  doth  he  aspire 
To  keep  for  brush  or  chisel,  pen  or  lyre, 

His  inspiration  heavenly  pure  and  sweet. 

But  in  the  works  of  Nature  we  behold 

Design  and  execution  truly  one : 
The   sky,  the   clouds,  the   mountains,  grove  and 

wold, 
The  snow-flakes,  dew-drops,  beams  of  moon  and 

sun, 

The  rose,  the  lily,  and  anemone, 
Are  all  what  she  intended  them  to  be. 


THE  ORDER  OF  THINGS  IS  CHANGING. 

THE  order  of  things  is  changing  ; 

A  glorious  day  is  breaking ; 
From  darkness  and  superstition 

Mankind,  exultant,  is  waking. 

The  faith  that  has  tortured  reason, 
Soon  reason  itself  will  banish ; 

The  cry  for  justice  will  triumph, 
And  resignation  will  vanish. 

To  the  Present,  not  to  the  future, 
Our  souls  we  shall  soon  be  giving ; 

Our  dread  of  our  own  damnation 
Will  change  to  love  for  the  living. 

The  order  of  things  is  changing ; 

A  glorious  day  is  breaking  ; 
From  darkness  and  superstition 

Mankind,  exultant,  is  waking. 
26 


FAIR  MONTH  OF  MAY. 

FAIR  month  of  May,  fair  month  of  May  ! 
What  mortal  maid  would  dare  to  say 
Her  charms  compare  with  thine  ?     Behold, 
At  thy  return  the  buds  unfold, 
And  myriad  flowers  smile  on  thee, 
And  brooklets  sparkle  merrily, 
And  birds  to  every  wild  and  wood, 
To  every  place  of  solitude, 
Proclaim  that  thou  art  come  again, 
And  all  mankind  take  up  the  strain, 
Until  the  earth  and  sky  above, 
United  'neath  thy  sunny  sway, 
Are  filled  with  praise  of  thee  and  love, 
Fair  month  of  May,  fair  month  of  May  ! 
27 


UNHEARD. 

THE  bird 
That  sings  its  song, 

Unheard, 
All  summer  long, 
I'  the  solitude 
Of  some  deep  wood, 
Sings  not  the  less 
For  happiness. 
28 


LIFE-SONG. 

MERRY  are  the  melodies 
Issuing  from  the  leafy  trees. 
Perfumes  sweet  are  hovering  over 
Brooklet  banks  and  fields  of  clover. 
Valleys  pied  with  myriad  flowers 
Charm  away  the  sunny  hours. 
What  a  lovely  world  is  this  ! 
And  the  dead  —  how  much  they  miss  ! 
29 


LIFE. 

THOUGH  fleet 
Is  this  our  life, 
And  full  of  strife, 

T  is  sweet. 

So  very  sweet,  forsooth, 
That,  given  health  and  youth, 
I  fain  on  earth  would  stay 
Forever  and  a  day. 
30 


TO    LORRAINE,   WITH    A    ROSE. 

TURNED  my  thoughts  were  by  this  rose 
To  thy  pure  and  gentle  breast. 
Nature's  sweetest  charms  are  those 
That  still  sweeter  thoughts  suggest. 
31 


TO  A  THRUSH. 

WHAT  wondrous  power  is  thine,  O  thrush 
The  very  roses  seem  to  blush 
A  deeper  red  when  thou  dost  sing ; 
The  amorous  vines  more  fondly  cling 
To  trunk  and  bough  ;  and  still  more  lush 
The  grasses  by  the  brooklet  grow. 
Could  I  pour  out  my  joy  and  woe 
As  thou  dost,  I  perchance  might  wring 
My  lady's  heart  with  wretchedness 
That  she  has  caused  me  such  distress, 
And  then  persuade  her  to  bestow 
On  me  her  favor  —  but,  ah  me ! 
Too  well  I  know  it  cannot  be. 
I  'm  doomed,  alas  !  to  loneliness, 
To  torturing  dreams  and  jealousy. 
3* 


WHEN  FIRST  I  LOOKED  ON  THEE. 

THE  beauty  of  thy  face, 
Thy  perfect  form  and  grace, 
When  first  I  looked  on  thee, 

Did  move 

The  very  soul  of  me, 
And  I  cried  inaudibly, 
"  My  love  !  " 
33 


A  MESSAGE. 

GENTLE  zephyr,  if  to  me 
Thou  wouldst  kind  and  courteous  be, 
Do  not  to  my  lady  bear 
Ev'n  a  hint  that  I  despair ; 
For  I  fain  her  heart  would  move, 
Not  through  pity,  but  through  love. 
Whisper  to  her  only  this, 
That  I  send  by  thee  a  kiss. 
34 


FLOWER  SONG. 

I  LOVE  the  fragrance  and  the  hue 
Of  blossoms  on  the  apple  trees. 
I  love  sweet  violets  wet  with  dew, 
And  daisies  and  anemones. 
I  love  the  flower  unknown  to  bees, 
Th'  adventurous  Alpine  traveller  seeks. 
But  more  —  much  more  than  all  of  these  • 
I  love  the  roses  of  thy  cheeks. 
35 


I  YEARN  FOR  THEE. 

I  YEARN  for  thee, 
Burn  for  thee, 
Sigh  for  thee, 
Die  for  thee, 
Dearest, 
Despairing, 
Not  caring 
To  live. 
Yet  give 
But  a  sign 
Thou  'It  be  mine, 
And  I  '11  hie  to  thee, 
Fly  to  thee, 

Dearest, 

Rejoiced  that  I  yearned  for  thee, 
Burned  for  thee, 
Sighed  for  thee, 
Dearest, 
36 


And  all  but  died  for  thee, 

Dearest. 
So  call  to  me, 
Call  to  me, 

Dearest. 
Be  all  to  me  ! 
37 


LORRAINE. 

LORRAINE  has  golden  hair 
That  falls  below  her  knee 
In  waves  of  witchery  ; 
A  forehead  low  and  fair  ; 
And  ears  like  dainty  shells  ; 
And  then  a  dreamy  eye, 
Gray  as  the  autumn  sky, 
Which  hints  but  never  tells 
Of  what  goes  on  within  ; 
A  nose  with  nostrils  fine  ; 
A  dimpled  cheek  and  chin  ; 
And  oh  !  a  mouth  divine. 
Her  hands  and  feet  are  small, 
She  's  graceful,  lithe,  and  tall, 
And  always  at  her  ease  ; 

And,  best  of  all, 

She  loves  to  please. 
To  know  her,  is  to  know  the  worth 
Of  all  that 's  sweet  and  fair  on  earth. 
38 


BOWER-SONG. 

THE  moments  that  I  pass  with  thee 

In  these  secluded  bowers, 
Where  Nature  loves  to  exercise 

Her  subtlest  spells  and  powers, 
Are  sweet  to  me  as  to  the  bee 

Are  dewy  summer  flowers, 
And  from  them  honey  I  derive 

For  lonely,  wintry  hours. 

So  go  not  yet  !     The  sun  is  still 

The  happy  world  surveying ; 
And  on  the  graceful  leafy  twigs 

The  merry  birds  are  swaying ; 
And  in  the  neighboring  fields  and  glades 

The  silent  herds  are  straying-: 
Besides,  dear  love,  there  always  is 

Such  pleasure  in  delaying. 
39 


THINE  EYES. 

THINE  eyes  are  like  the  night- 
At  times  so  dark  and  cold 

That  in  the  deepest  gloom 
My  spirit  they  infold. 

And  then,  at  times,  so  bright, 
That,  soaring  up  above, 

My  spirit  reaches  Heaven 
In  ecstasy  of  love. 
40 


WITHOUT  AND  WITHIN. 

Beloved  mine,  when  sad  and  drear 

The  scenes  appear 
Of  life  without,  to  still  my  sighs 

I  close  my  eyes, 
And  look  within  :  then  all  is  fair ; 

For  thou  art  there. 
41 


DOST  THOU  KNOW? 

DOST  thou  know  thine  eyes  are  bright 
With  a  peace-disturbing  light  ? 
Dost  thou  know  thy  smile  makes  sweet 
Ev'n  the  dust  beneath  thy  feet  ? 
Dost  thou  know  thy  touch  doth  reach 
Depths  that  ne'er  were  moved  by  speech  ? 
Dost  thou  know  thy  love  is  worth 
More  to  me  than  Heaven  or  earth  ? 


IS  LIFE  WORTH  LIVING? 

RONDEAU. 

Is  life  worth  living?     Who,  I  pray, 
Your  joys  and  ills  but  you  can  weigh  ? 
To  me  your  question  but  implies 
A  horrid  doubt,  in  thin  disguise, 
Which  still  persists  on  hearing  "  Nay," 

Which  shakes  its  head  on  hearing  "  Yea," 
And,  ghost-like,  haunts  you  night  and  day. 
Your  very  soul  it  is  that  cries, 
"Is  life  worth  living?'' 

Whom  else  it  haunts,  't  is  hard  to  say  : 
Among  you  are  the  young  and  gray, 
The  rich  and  poor,  the  weak  and  wise  — 
All  kinds  your  number  doth  comprise 
Save  lovers  :  they  ask  not  —  not  they  !  — 
"  Is  life  worth  living  ?  " 

43 


TO  LORRAINE  IN  SORROW. 

SORROW,  till  it  came  to  thee, 
Only  cruel  seemed  to  me. 
Softened  by  thy  smiles  and  tears, 
Beautiful  it  now  appears  ; 
And  it  makes  me  love  thee  more 
Than  I  ever  loved  before. 
44 


IN  ANSWER  TO  A  FROWN. 

GIVE  with  your  love  that  boundless  faith 

That  I  with  mine  give  you, 
And  never  any  jealous  wraith 

Will  haunt  us  nor  undo. 
No  better  safeguard  honor  knows 
Than  that  which  boundless  faith  bestows. 

Still,  if  the  power  beyond  you  lies 
Such  boundless  faith  to  give, 

My  self-respect  too  much  I  prize 
A  double  life  to  live. 

I  could  not  to  myself  be  true, 

Were  I  a  moment  false  to  you. 
45 


GROVE  SONG. 

THE  moon  is  beaming 

On  lake  and  grove, 
And  I  am  dreaming 

Of  thee,  my  love  ; 
And  how  utterly  lonely 

I  feel  to-night 
The  whip-poor-will  only 

Interprets  aright. 

Yet  as  great  a  gladness 

Were  mine,  I  trow, 
As  now  is  my  sadness, 

Did  I  but  know, 
While  the  moon  is  beaming 

On  lake  and  grove, 
In  turn  thou  art  dreaming 

Of  me,  my  love. 
46 


A  CONFESSION. 

ROUNDEL. 

I  VE  loved  but  thee,  who  art  —  but  stay  ! 

If  told  the  startling  truth  must  be, 
I  '11  speak  :  forget  the  words,  I  pray, 
"I've  loved  but  thee." 

'T  was  not  on  Herrick,  but  on  me 
That  Julia  cast  for  many  a  day 
Her  wondrous  spell  of  witcherie  ; 

And  I  it  was  who,  wakeful,  lay, 

And  sighed  that  I  should  never  see 
Rose  Aylmer  :  so  I  cannot  say, 
I  Ve  loved  but  thee. 
47 


DREAMING  AND  WAKING. 

WE  close  our  eyes  ;  we  dream  ; 

Our  life's  conditions  change  ; 
And  everything  seems  true, 

And  nothing  strange. 

Just  now  I  dreamed  that  we 
Were  sailing  on  a  lake, 

And  that  I  fell  asleep, 
And  could  not  wake. 

You  took  my  heavy  head, 
And  held  it  on  your  breast ; 

And  on  my  lips  and  eyes 
Your  lips  you  pressed. 

But  at  their  touch  you  breathed 
A  loving  sigh  and  deep  ; 

Your  head  sank  close  to  mine ; 
You  shared  my  sleep. 
48 


One  being  did  we  seem ; 

One  memory,  too,  we  had, 
Which  brought  back  all  our  pasts, 

The  good  and  bad. 

Much  never  understood, 

We  understood  at  last ; 
And  much  we  feared  to  tell 

Back  in  the  past. 

We  understood,  and  smiled 
The  smile  of  perfect  love  ; 

And  fair  the  whole  earth  grew, 
As  heaven  above. 

All  thought  of  busy  life 

Passed  from  our  future's  scope  ; 
No  smallest  want  we  felt, 

No  need  of  hope. 

Meanwhile  our  steady  skiff 
Had  risen  from  the  lake, 

And  now  by  many  a  star 
Its  course  did  take. 

49 


As  single  sunny  days 

Whole  aeons  passed  away ; 

And  on,  still  on,  our  skiff 
Sped  like  a  ray. 

At  last,  as  from  afar, 

Sweet  music  did  we  hear, 

Which  thrilled  us  with  delight 
As  we  drew  near. 

Then  came  a  flood  of  light, 
A  sense  of  heavenly  bliss, 

And  then  my  lips  returned 
Your  burning  kiss. 

Ah,  God  !  't  was  sweet  to  dream 
We  shared  the  life  divine ; 

Yet  sweeter  't  was  to  wake, 
Beloved  mine ; 

For  I  would  rather  feel 

Your  kisses,  hear  your  sighs, 
Than  have  eternal  peace 

In  paradise. 

50 


FIRESIDE  ILLUSIONS. 

SONNET. 

THE  summer 's  gone,  and  yet  the  languid  air 
Still  thrills  me  with  its  fragrance,  and  I  hear, 
Among  the  sensuous,  pleached  pines,  the  clear 

Exultant  songs  of  birds  that  upward  bear 

My  spirit  far  from  every  earthly  care, 
And  free  it  from  forebodings  dark  and  drear  ; 
And  now  I  feel  that  thou  art  drawing  near  : 

'T  is  thou,  indeed,  and  oh,  my  God  !  how  fair ! 

Thine  eyes  are  full  of  love,  of  love  untold ; 

And   'gainst  thy  leaping   heart   thy  hands  are 

pressed ; 
I  cry  thy  name,  then  rush  to  thee,  and  fold 

Thee  blushing,  burning,  trembling,  to  my  breast ; 
I  feel  thy  kisses,  hear  thy  sighs,  —  ah  me ! 
I  do  not  need  to  sleep  to  dream  of  thee. 

5' 


NIGHT  SONG. 

WE  have  said  good-night  and  parted, 
(The  stars  are  shining  above,) 

And  homeward  I  turn  heavy-hearted, 
(There's  always  sorrow  in  love.) 

The  whip-poor-will  sings  in  the  wood, 
(The  stars  are  shining  above,) 

As  if  he,  too,  understood, 

(There 's  always  sorrow  in  love.) 
52 


IN  DARKNESS. 

WHAT  wind  !  what  rain  !  what  gloom  ! 

No  tomb 
Is  in  such  sorry  plight 

For  light, 
As  is  my  little  room 

To-night. 

Ah,  why  art  thou  not  here, 

My  dear  ? 
Thy  touch,  thy  voice,  thy  sight 

Would  quite 
Dispel  the  darkness  drear 

To-night. 

53 


WITHOUT  THEE. 

MY  fancy  often  heeds 

My  heart's  desire,  and  leads 

Thee  over 

The  thousand  leagues  of  sea 
That  part  thee  now  from  me, 

Thy  lover. 

I  press  my  lips  to  thine ; 
My  arms  I  fondly  twine 

About  thee ; 
And  I  remember  not 
The  while  how  sad 's  my  lot 

Without  thee. 
54 


AT  SUNSET. 

ON  yonder  hills  above  the  shadowy  plain, 
Still  rests  the  rosy,  loving  light  of  day  ; 

One  moment  I  forget,  and  smile  again, 

Then  memory  comes  and  steals  my  peace  away. 
55 


THE  PURSUIT. 

HOPE  stood  on  the  hill-top, 

And  I  in  the  vale, 
She  charming  and  rosy, 

I  eager  and  pale. 
She  beckoned  me  to  her, 

And  to  her  I  sped, 
But,  ere  I  could  reach  her, 

Far  from  me  she  fled. 
Her  signs  she  repeated  ; 

Again  I  pursued, 
But  still  she  retreated, 

My  arms  to  elude. 
Retreating 
And  cheating, 
Again  and  again, 

She  beckoned  me  to  her, 
And  made  me  pursue  her ; 

But  ever  in  vain. 
56 


And  yet  a  deceiver 
I  did  not  believe  her, 

Until  at  last 

From  my  sight  she  passed, 
And  I  found  me  alone 
In  a  land  unknown. 
57 


REST. 

THE  heavens  were  clouded, 

And  damp  was  the  air ; 
My  heart  it  seemed  breaking 

With  leaden  despair  ; 
When  suddenly  near  me 

Sweet  Memory  came, 
And  greeted  me  gently, 

And  called  me  by  name. 
She  sat  down  beside  me, 

And  promised  to  be 
A  friend  and  companion 

Forever  to  me. 
I  listened, 
While  glistened 
The  tears  in  my  eyes, 

And  when  she  had  ended, 

I  said,  "  Thus  befriended, 
My  life  I  shall  prize.0 

58 


And  no  one  but  she 
Has  been  dear  to  me, 
Since  I  found  me  alone 
In  this  land  unknown. 
59 


BUM  VIVIMUS  VIVAMUS. 

LIKE  everything  else, 

We  are  made  of  the  dust, 
And  come  into  life 

Because  we  must ; 

And  round  and  round  with  the  seasons  we  go, 
Now  smiling  with  pleasure,  now  weeping  with  woe. 

We  must  take  what  comes, 

Be  it  good  or  ill ; 
And  watch  what  goes 
With  impotent  will ; 
So  let 's  prove  we  are  wise,  through  our  life's  short 

years, 

By  enjoying  our  pleasures  and  drying  our  tears. 

60 


PURSUE  THY  WAY. 

RONDEAU. 

PURSUE  thy  way !  where'er  it  lead  — 
Through  many  a  sweet,  melodious  mead, 
Where  idle  friends  contented  lie, 
Or  over  mountains  steep  and  high, 
Where  none  are  near,  wouldst  thou  succeed. 

And  neither  stay  with  friends  that  plead, 
Nor  stop  to  bind  thy  feet  that  bleed  ; 
But  onward  !  with  unfaltering  eye 
Pursue  thy  way ! 

However  great  may  be  thy  need 
Of  strength,  enough  to  do  thy  deed 
Will  come  to  thee,  if  "  Do  or  die  " 
But  be  thy  soul's  persistent  cry. 
So,  onward  !  slacken  not  thy  speed  ! 
Pursue  thy  way ! 
61 


MISINTERPRETATIONS. 

OUR  tears  we  many  a  time  have  shed, 
And  looked  to  the  Future  with  infinite  dread, 
But  only  at  last  with  a  smile  to  perceive 
That  cause  we  had  none  to  fear  or  to  grieve. 

And  many  a  time,  by  illusions  beguiled, 

We  have  thought  we  were  favored  by  Fate  and 

have  smiled, 
When,  had   we  but   known  what   since  we    have 

learned, 
The    hottest    of    tears   our    cheeks   would    have 

burned. 


BEAUTY  AND  LOVE. 

WHEN  beauty  attracts  and  speech  allures, 
And  virtue  captivates,  love  endures  ; 
But  beauty  alone  has  ephemeral  charms, 
And  love  dissolves  in  her  very  arms. 
63 


ART  HAS  NO  BOUNDARIES. 

WHATEVER  in  art  is  truly  great 
Is  based  on  a  truth  that  has  no  date, 
But  always  was,  and  ever  will  be, 
And  ignores  the  limits  of  land  and  of  sea. 
64 


LOVE'S  BEGINNING  AND  END. 

THERE  is  nothing  in  all  the  realm  of  bliss 
So  ineffably  sweet  as  love's  first  kiss  ; 
And  nothing  there  is  in  sorrow's  sphere 
So  utterly  sad  as  love's  last  tear. 
65 


A  COMFORTING  THOUGHT. 

SOME  reason  to  be  glad 
We  all  have,  ev'n  the  sad  ; 
For  they  have  this,  at  least : 
To  live  they'll  soon  have  ceas'd. 
66 


"OUR  RELIGION." 

THE  gospel  taught  by  Christ  has  never  been 
Accepted  yet  by  any  race  or  state  : 

On  every  page  of  history  is  seen 
That  "  our  religion  "  is  not  love,  but  hate. 
67 


A  COMPARISON. 

THE  Future  tells  us  nothing :  hidden  lies 
Its  purpose  from  the  sharpest  mortal  eyes. 
The  Present  tells  us  little :  dazzled,  we 
Undue  proportions  give  to  all  we  see. 
The  Past  tells  much  :  to  those  with  sense  supplied 
It  is  a  present  help,  a  future  guide. 

68 


ANSWER  TO  A  NOTE  OF  THANKS. 

AGAIN,  fair  lady,  you  will  have  to  try 
The  sender  of  the  roses  to  discover ; 

Now  that  you  're  certain  that  it  was  not  I, 

You  'd  better  thank  your  next  most  modest  lover. 
69 


TO  MY  PIOUS  FRIENDS. 

I  WOULD  not  blame  you,  much  less  abuse, 
And  yet  at  times  I  cannot  but  laugh, 

When  I  see  how  readily  you  confuse 
The  Lamb  of  God  with  the  Golden  Calf. 
70 


LOIS. 

SONNET. 

ADOWN  the  silvery  stream  Maurice  is  rowing, 
And  fair-haired  Lois  in  the  stern  is  minding 
The  wayward  rudder  through  the  sunshine  blind- 
ing, 

Which  nevertheless  prevents  her  not  from  throwing 

Swift,  furtive  glances  on  his  features  glowing 
With  keen  exhilaration,  nor  from  finding 
A  nook  beside  the  mossy  bank  and  winding, 

Where  they  may  rest,  and  catch  the  breeze  that 's 
blowing. 

There,  as  a  bud,  with  secret  sweetness  laden, 
Unfolds  its  petals  to  the  summer  morning, 
Fair  Lois  blossomed  forth  into  a  maiden, 

And  of  the  change  a  burning  blush  gave  warn- 
ing, 

Which  any  one,  except  her  timid  lover, 
Had  not  been  sorely  puzzled  to  discover. 

71 


EPITAPH. 

ERECTED  is  this  stone 
In  memory  of  one 
Who  never  once  was  heard 
To  speak  a  truthful  word. 
Nor  has  he  changed.     So  hush! 
Pass  on  !  and  for  him  blush 
Up  to  your  very  eyes  ! 
For  even  here,  he  lies. 
72 


WHAT  FOLLOWED  ? 

A  DAINTY  little  hand  has  she, 

With  tapering,  rosy  tips, 
And  when  last  night  she  smiled  on  me 

I  pressed  it  to  my  lips. 

"  What  followed  ? "     Prithee,  question  not  I 

And  yet  this  hint  I  '11  give,  — 
T  is  not  a  disagreeable  lot 

From  liand  to  month  to  live. 
73 


FAITHFUL. 

TRIOLET. 

SHE  loved  and  lost  long  years  ago, 

But  faithful  still  remains  and  true. 
Gay  youths  and  maidens  whisper  low, 
"  She  loved  and  lost  long  years  ago  ; " 
And  love  seems  holier  since  they  know. 
That  till  she  dies  they  '11  whisper  too : 
"  She  loved  and  lost  long  years  ago, 
But  faithful  still  remains  and  true." 
74 


HOW  SHE  WON  HIM. 

RONDEL. 

SHE  stood  on  the  tips  of  her  toes, 
And  slyly  peered  over  the  wall 
At  his  martial  figure  and  tall, 

The  cause  of  her  secret  woes  ; 

Yet  little  did  he  suppose, 
The  gallant,  impetuous  Paul, 

She  stood  on  the  tips  of  her  toes, 
And  slyly  peered  over  the  wall, 

Until  at  his  feet  a  rose 

Her  trembling  fingers  let  fall, 
And  then  he  discovered  all. 

To  win  him  the  whole  world  knows, 

She  stood  on  the  tips  of  her  toes. 
75 


IN  MEMORIAM 
ULYSSES  S.  GRANT. 

i. 

COURAGEOUS,  strong,  pure-minded,  calm,  and  just 
Was  he  in  whom  we  placed  our  hope  and  trust, 

ii. 

When  dissolution,  hotly,  madly  planned, 
Was  fiercely  threatening  our  beloved  land. 

in. 

Great  was  the  trust :  he  proved  it  well  deserved. 
Sublime  the  deed :  the  Union  he  preserved. 

IV. 

Then  was  he  folded  to  the  Country's  heart, 
And  chosen  to  take  the  highest  civic  part. 

76 


V. 

His  motto  "  Peace,"  he  brought,  from  sea  to  sea, 
The  sundered  sections  into  sympathy. 

VI. 

Such  was  his  life-work  :  grander  has  been  none. 
He  lives  with  Lincoln  and  with  Washington. 

77 


AMERICANS! 

AMERICANS,  stand  by  your  past ! 
Remember  your  forefathers  cast 
Their  fortunes  and  lives  in  the  scale 
That  liberty  here  might  prevail, 
And  that  this  your  country  might  be 
Forever  the  land  of  the  free  ! 

Remember,  when  freedom  was  gained, 
What  self-control  they  maintained, 
And  what  efforts  they  made  to  give 
A  government  that  should  live, 
And  evermore  worthy  be 
Of  a  people  proud  and  free ! 

And  remember,  now  they  are  dust, 
That  on  you  devolves  a  trust 
The  grandest,  noblest,  and  best 
That  ever  a  people  possest ! 
To  all  your  traditions  hold  fast ! 
Americans,  stand  by  your  past ! 
78 


NATIONAL  HYMN. 

BLESS  the  United  States, 
Ruler  of  nations'  fates, 

Great  God  above ! 
Grant  that  forever  free, 
True  to  our  trust  and  Thee, 
We  may  united  be 

Closely  in  love  ? 

Bless  us  in  all  the  arts, 
Bless  us  with  crowded  marts, 

Our  hopes  increase ! 
Bless  us  with  lasting  light, 
Bless  us  with  love  of  right, 
Bless  us  with  matchless  might, 

Bless  us  with  peace ! 
79 


A  NARROW  VIEW. 

ROUNDEL. 

A  NARROW  view,  my  clever  friend, 

Is  what  the  world  's  accustomed  to. 
Men  love,  because  they  comprehend, 
A  narrow  view. 

With  genius  such  as  yours  is,  you 
Will  quickly  rise  if  you  commend 
Accepted  truths,  objurgate  new, 

And  if  your  stanch  support  you  lend 
To  some  stiff  creed,  or  party  hue ; 
For  sects  and  parties  all  defend 
A  narrow  view. 
80 


A   REBUKE —  UNSPOKEN. 

"  How  could  she  ? "  you  a  red-lipped  woman  ask  ! 

Ah,  God !  that  I  might  tear  away  your  mask 

Of  base  hypocrisy,  and  from  your  soul 

Learn  all  the  lapses  of  your  self-control, 

Read  all  your  secret  thoughts,  your  longings  sweet, 

And  note  the  times  when  if  but  at  your  feet 

A  lover  knelt,  you  too  had  smoothed  his  brow, 

Drank  in  his  words,  believed  his  every  vow, 

Had  strained  him  wildly  to  your  breast, 

Had  given  your  burning  lips  and  all  the  rest, 

Had  sighed  because  you  had  no  more  to  give, 

And  been  as  glad  to  die  for  him  as  live. 

Yes  ;  chance,  the  lack  of  chance,  has  saved  your 

soul, 

And  not  your  virtue  or  your  self-control. 

81 


SAPPHO. 

«'T  the  night  was;    crushed  is  her   heart   and 

bleeding  ; 

Still  she  watches,  on  her  divan  reclining  ; 
Pale  her  cheek  is,  pale  after  hours  of  pleading, 
Passion,  and  pining. 

"Worse,"  she  cries,    "than  torture  such  woe  as 

this  is." 

Then  she  calls  again  and  again  her  lover; 
Till  her  brow  the  pitying  Dream-god  kisses, 
Hovering  above  her. 

On  her  closed  eyelids  dark  circles  languish ; 

Clasped  her  hands  are  over  her  golden  tresses  ; 
Quivering  still  her  lips  are,  and  still  her  anguish 
Scarce  any  less  is. 

Why  the   change  that  suddenly  now  comes  o'er 

her? 

Doth  she  feel  the  breeze  with  aromas  laden  ? 
82 


Blow  a  while,  sweet  breeze,  and  to  joy  restore  her, 
Desolate  maiden. 

Nay ;  a  sunbeam  over  her  bosom  falling 

Thrills   it   through  and    through  with    illusions 

beguiling : 
Round  her  love  she  twines  her  soft  arms  inthrall- 

ing, 
Blissfully  smiling. 

83 


TO  GERALDINE. 

WORDS  that  to  the  ear 

Are  not  clear, 
Being  far  too  fleet 

And  too  sweet, 
Make  our  hearts,  which  hear, 

Wildly  beat. 

Much  my  heart  was  stirred 

When  I  heard, 
In  this  valley  green 

And  serene, 
But  just  now,  the  word, 

"  Geraldine." 
84 


THE  REVERIE  OF  A  SPINSTER. 

ROUNDEL. 

I  OFTEN  sigh  as  I  reflect 

How  love  has  always  passed  me  by. 
"  Some  curse  is  mine,  some  gross  defect,' 
I  often  sigh. 

No  arms  I  have  to  which  to  fly  ; 
No  look  my  longings  to  detect ; 

No  home  to  cheer ;  to  hush,  no  cry. 

'T  is  hard  to  keep  my  self-respect ; 

'Tis  hard  my  nature  to  defy. 
"  A  life  that  has  no  love  is  wreck'd," 
I  often  sigh. 

85 


THOUGHTS  ON  SEEING  A  BELLE. 

CAN  feet  so  fairy  light 
Have  earthly  mission  ? 

Can  breast  so  snowy  white 
Burn  with  ambition  ? 

Can  eyes  so  soft  as  thine 

With  envy  glisten  ? 
Can  ears  so  pink  and  fine 

To  scandal  listen  ? 
86 


ILLS,  PRESENT  AND  PAST. 

THE  ills  of  the  present  were  easier  to  bear, 

If  we  but  remembered  the  ills  of  the  past, 
The  most  of  which  only  made  life  less  fair 

For  the  moment,  too  unsubstantial  to  last ; 
While  the  rest  that  remained  soon  ceased  to  smart, 

And  live  now  as  memories  which  we  treasure 
In  some  remote  corner  or  nook  of  the  heart, 

And  from  which  we  derive  a  certain  sad  pleas- 
ure. 

87 


IN  THE  CAMPO  SANTO. 

11  BEHOLD  yon  gloomy  monk, 
With  cowl  drawn  o'er  his  head 

He  looks  like  one  that  holds 
Communion  with  the  dead." 

"  Yes  ;  did  you  hear  him  breathe 
A  gentle  name,  and  sigh  ? 

And  did  you  see  the  tear 
That  glistened  in  his  eye." 


LITTLE  PHIL. 

MUTATIS  MUTANDIS. 

A  MILE  from  home  is  pleasure-loving  Phil, 
And  indistinct  the  objects  round  him  grow  : 
The  heavens  which  he  thought  would  be  aglow 

With  clouds  are  darkened,  and  the  air  is  chill. 

He  hears  the  crickets  chirp,  the  tree-toads  trill. 
Upon  the  woody  highway  shadows  throw 
Their  silent  terrors.     Tales  of  long  ago 

Flash  through  his  wretched  mind,  impair  his  will, 

And  lend  uncanny  fancies  to  his  ears. 
He  sees  a  shape  before  him,  and  behind 

A  stealthy,  quick-approaching  step  he  hears. 
He  stops.     His  heart  beats  fast.     Then  like  the 
wind 

He  rushes  on,  until  the  friendly  light 

Of  home  he  sees.     Then  laughs  he  at  his  fright. 

89 


TO  MADELEINE. 

I  FANCIED  I  could  live  for  art ; 

And  so  I  closed,  without  regret, 
The  open  portals  of  my  heart, 

And  kept  them  closed,  until  I  met 
My  love,  my  queen, 
My  Madeleine. 

I  fancied  fame  the  sweetest  prize ; 
And  so  for  fame  I  chose  to  live : 
But  had  I  fame  that  reached  the  skies, 
It  all  for  thee  I  'd  gladly  give, 
My  love,  my  queen, 
My  Madeleine. 
90 


AFTER  MEETING  A  POET. 

TRIOLET. 

HE  's  written  many  a  lovely  line, 

And  yet  he  's  hardly  known  to  fame. 
(O  Fate,  a  mocking  smile  is  thine  !) 
He's  written  many  a  lovely  line, 

And  yet  he's  hardly  known  to  fame. 
What  hope  is  there  for  verse  of  mine 

When  his  is  slighted  (more  's  the  shame  !) 
He 's  written  many  a  lovely  line, 

And  yet  he  's  hardly  known  to  fame. 
9* 


A  READY  CONCESSION. 

11  You  should  not  say  my  love  's  grown  less 

It  really  is  not  true. 
You  only  said  so  —  come,  confess  ! 

Because  you  're  feeling  blue." 

41  Well,  greater,  then,  — about  a  word 

Why  make  so  much  ado  ? 
Your  love 's  grown  greater,  for  I  Ve  heard 

You  love  my  rival  too." 
92 


SHE  WAS  WONDROUS  FAIR. 

SHE  was  wondrous  fair,  and  I  gloried  much 
In  the  thrilling  power  of  her  glance  and  touch 

And  the  luring  charm  of  her  laughter ; 
But  I  did  not  see  that  her  lips  were  too  red, 
That  her  love  was  not  life,  but  death  instead, 

Till  I  came  to  myself  long  after. 

Although  I  hate  her,  and  curse  her  well, 
Yet  even  now  I  'm  not  free  from  her  spell 

And  never  shall  be  hereafter  ; 
For  over  my  memory  her  power  is  such 
That  I  oft  feel  the  thrill  of  her  glance  and  touch 

And  the  luring  charm  of  her  laughter. 
93 


HAPPINESS. 

ALL  other  happiness  in  life  is  small 

Compared  with  that  we  feel  when  some  great 

fear, 

Or  gruesome  dread,  that  long  has  held  us  thrall, 
Doth  of  a  sudden  wholly  disappear. 
94 


PREJUDICES. 

PREJUDICES,  put  to  flight 
Like  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
Leave  things  in  their  proper  light 
Use  thy  reason,  then,  and  be 
From  all  prejudices  free. 
95 


A  CRITICISM. 

MY  lover  is  a  poet :  when  he  speaks  * 
I  feel  the  color  surge  into  my  cheeks, 
So  manly  are  his  words,  so  sweet,  so  plain. 
But  when  he  writes  me  poems,  all  in  vain 
I  try  to  think  he  found  them  in  his  heart : 
The  meaning  is  too  veiled,  too  deft  his  art ; 
They  lack  the  ring  of  the  impulsive  lays 
Of  those  that  sang  in  less  esthetic  days  : 
They  do  not  bring  the  color  to  my  cheeks,  - 
My  lover  is  a  poet,  when  he  speaks  t 
96 


EPITAPH. 

THE  friends  of  him  that  lies  beneath  this  sod 

Are  not  his  loss  deploring : 
Their  sleep  is  calm  and  peaceful  now,  thank  God  1 

For  he  has  quit  his  snoring. 
97 


SURVIVAL  OF  THE  LESS  FIT. 

OUR  honeymoon  was  hardly  over 
Before  I  was  of  joy  bereft, 

Because  I  found  I  'd  lost  my  lover, 
And  only  had  a  husband  left. 
98 


WAIT  A  WHILE. 

JOY,  what  art  thou  ?  tell  me, 
Though  I  know  thee  well. 

"  Wait  a  while,"  said  Sorrow, 
"  Wait,  and  I  will  tell.'1 

Life,  what  art  thou  ?  tell  me, 
Though  I  draw  thy  breath. 

"  Wait,  and  I  will  answer ; 
Wait  a  while,"  said  Death. 

99 


ALONE. 

AMONG  the  leaves  I  heard 

A  bird 
Sing  o'er  and  o'er  again 

A  strain 
That  seemed  a  weary  word 

Of  pain, 

Which  I,  all  joy  denied, 

Supplied, 
And  sadder  there  is  none  : 

This  one, 
Which  often  I  have  sighed  : 

"Alone." 
100 


LOVE  ONCE  GONE  IS  GONE  FOREVER. 

FACES  please  us,  voices  charm  us, 
And  our  reason  tries  to  prove, 

That,  although  traduced  or  broken, 
Still  our  hearts  are  free  to  love. 

But  our  hearts,  forgetting  nothing, 

No  such  sophistry  can  stir : 
Love  once  gone  is  gone  forever ; 

Passions  only  oft  recur. 

101 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  PAIN. 

BUT  little  of  the  laws  we  know 
That  govern  joy  and  pain, 

Save  that  the  former  loves  to  go, 
The  latter  to  remain. 

Yet,  whether  sad  or  happy,  this 

We  all  alike  must  see, 
If  life  were  sweeter  than  it  is, 

More  bitter  denth  \vould  be. 

102 


ALAS!  POOR  TREE. 

RONDEAU. 

ALAS,  poor  tree  !  beneath  your  shade 
Long  years  ago,  a  child,  I  played, 
And  on  your  limbs,  stair  after  stair, 
I  clambered  high  into  the  air, 
And  from  the  top  the  world  surveyed, 

And  wondered  how  't  was  ever  made, 
And  in  such  lovely  dress  arrayed  ; 
But  now  of  branches  you  are  bare. 
Alas,  poor  tree ! 

You,  too,  it  seems,  have  but  obeyed 
The  law  that  makes  the  features  fade 
Of  every  one,  however  fair, 
And  turns  to  white  the  blackest  hair ; 
And  low  you  too  will  soon  be  laid. 
Alas,  poor  tree ! 
103 


REMEMBER  ME. 

ROUNDEL. 

REMEMBER  me,  as  one  who  gave 

His  earliest,  sweetest  love  to  thee  — 
As  one,  the  while,  half  god  half  slave,  • 
Remember  me. 

In  years  to  come,  if  times  there  be 
When  tender  memory's  refluent  wave 
Restores  thee,  heart  and  fancy  free, 

To  maidenhood,  a  smile  I  crave, 

As  loving  as  I  used  to  see, 
Or  tear  if  I  be  in  my  grave. 
Remember  me ! 
104 


CONTRASTS. 

IN  every  voice  we  hear  a  cry 
For  something  unattained  ; 

Or  else  a  deep,  despairing  sigh 
For  something  unregained. 

In  every  face  we  see  the  light 
Of  days  not  yet  arrived, 

Or  else  the  record  of  a  night 
That  peace  has  not  survived. 

In  every  touch  we  feel  the  love 
Of  animating  breath  ; 

Or  else  some  intimation  of 
A  lessening  dread  of  death. 
'05 


COMPENSATION. 

TO    G.   H. 

I  TOO  wept  bitter  tears 

In  bygone  years ; 
But,  growing  old,  forgot 
How  sad  had  been  my  lot. 
And  so  these  days  to  thee 
Will  seem  ere  long  to  be, 
Not  what  they  are, 
But  beautiful  and  fair. 

Yet  why  't  is  so, 

I  do  not  know  ; 
Unless,  perchance, 
As  we  in  age  advance 

And  hopes  prove  vain, 
Fate,  out  of  pity,  chooses 
That  what  the  future  loses 

The  past  shall  gain. 
106 


THEN  AND  NOW. 

A  YOUTH,  I  loved  the  hills  and  dells, 
The  woods  and  singing  streams, 

And  moonlight  sails  upon  the  lake, 
And  lost  myself  in  dreams. 

A  man,  I  love  my  books  and  pipe, 
The  glow  the  embers  cast, 

And  if,  by  chance,  I  ever  dream, 
'Tis  only  of  the  past. 
107 


A  CHANCE  MEETING. 

ROUNDEL. 

WHEN  I  met  her  just  now  in  the  street, 
I  felt  that  my  cheek  grew  red, 
And  I  passed  without  turning  my  head, 

Or  removing  my  eyes  from  my  feet. 

She  looked  just  as  pretty  and  sweet 
As  she  did  in  the  days  that  have  fled. 

When  I  met  her  just  now  in  the  street, 
I  felt  that  my  cheek  grew  red. 

Though  I  fancied  we  some  day  should  meet, 
Ere  the  years  of  our  youth  had  all  sped, 
Still  I  thought  the  old  feelings  were  dead  : 

But  I  know  that  she  heard  my  heart  beat, 

When  I  met  her  just  now  in  the  street. 
108 


EVERY  HEART'S  A  SHRINE. 

IN  busy  haunts  I  pass  my  days, 

My  evenings  by  the  fire  ; 
I  'm  weaned  from  all  my  youthful  ways  ; 

I  burn  with  no  desire. 

Men  call  me  cold,  and  doubtless  I 

Have  grown  so  unaware  ; 
And,  since  I  do  not  make  reply, 

They  think  I  little  care. 

Some  things  there  are,  which  are  not  told, 

That  others  ne'er  divine  ; 
Yet  every  heart,  however  cold, 

For  some  name  is  a  shrine. 
109 


ILLUSIONS. 

WHY  smilest  thou  ?     Illusions 
Are  not  confined  to  youth  : 

Ours  even  show  a  wider 
Divergence  from  the  truth. 

Think  only  of  the  ev'nings 
That  find  us  now  alone, 

How  we  forget  completely 
Our  youth  is  past  and  gone, 

Recalling  old  emotions 
Until  they  seem  like  new, 

And  rosy  hopes,  long  faded, 
Till  they  regain  their  hue. 
no 


PLEASURES. 

SONNET. 

WHEN,  years  ago,  I  was  a  little  child, 
I  loved  to  be  out  doors  the  livelong  day, 
And  with  companions  in  the  fields  to  play, 

To  gather  flowers,  and  wander  through  the  wild. 

Then  later,  when  a  youth,  I  was  beguiled 
To  visit  lands  I  'd  read  of  far  away. 
How  sweet  my  freedom  was,  and  life  how  gay ! 

My  heart  was  quick  to  beat  when  beauty  smiled. 

But  now  that  I  have  passed  my  golden  prime, 
And  care  no  more  in  foreign  lands  to  roam, 

Whenever  I  am  blessed  with  leisure  time 
I  love  the  restful  atmosphere  of  home, 

A  wholesome  book,  a  pipe,  a  clever  friend. 

Life  has  its  pleasures  to  its  very  end. 

in 


A  COMPARISON. 

WHEN  I  look  back  upon  the  past, 

I  needs  must  breathe  a  sigh 
Of  deep  regret,  to  think  how  fast 

My  youth's  sweet  years  flew  by. 
What  strength,  what  courage,  then  were  mine ! 
What  rosy  hopes  !  what  dreams  divine  ! 

But  one  by  one  my  hopes  proved  vain, 

And  all  my  dreams  untrue  ; 
My  strength  and  courage  to  retain 

Is  all  I  now  can  do. 
Compared  with  what  I  hoped  to  be, 
I  am  but  sorry  parody. 

112 


CONSOLATION. 

As  little  children  in  their  grief 

Are  often  offered  this  relief : 

"  To-morrow,  waking  from  thy  sleep, 

Thou  wilt  not  grieve,  my  child,  nor  weep ; 

For  trifling  then  and  far  away 

Will  seem  the  troubles  of  to-day ;  " 

So,  often  we  a  whisper  hear 
That  sweetly  bids,  "  Be  of  good  cheer, 
And  comfort  in  the  knowledge  take 
That  there  's  a  sleep  from  which  thou  'It  wake, 
To  find  forever  passed  away 
The  troubles  of  thy  life's  short  day." 
"3 


LOST. 

WHO  feels  not  sometime  like  a  child 
That 's  lost,  and  wanders  in  the  wild, 
And  tries  to  keep  a  hopeful  heart, 
Although  he  feels  his  strength  depart, 
And  sees  around  him  and  before 
Uncertainty  and  nothing  more? 
"4 


LIKE  A  LEAF. 

How  often,  recalling  our  love, 
Of  you  do  I  think  and  dream, 

Now  that  lonely  and  aimless  I  move, 
Like  a  leaf  down  a  sinuous  stream. 

My  heart  will  be  yours  till  I  die, 
Though  never  we  meet  the  while  : 

I  would  rather  remember,  and  sigh, 
Than  forget  the  past,  and  smile. 
"5 


A  LONELY  WAY. 

ROUNDEL. 

A  LONELY  way  in  life  we  tread, 

And  every  signboard  seems  to  say, 
While  pointing  out  our  course  ahead  : 
"  A  lonely  way." 

Though  by  companions,  blithe  and  gay 
Apparently,  our  steps  are  led, 
And  jollity  marks  every  day, 

Still  we  are  conscious  that,  instead 
Of  walking  closely  with  us,  they, 
As  we,  pursue,  when  all  is  said, 
A  lonely  way. 

116 


FAR  AWAY. 

THE  hills  of  Woodstock  rise 
Close  up  against  the  skies, 

And  often, 

While  over  them  I  stray, 
My  eyes  look  far  away 

And  soften. 

They  soften  with  the  tears 
That  tell  of  ties  the  years 

Would  sever ; 

Of  joys  that  long  have  fled, 
Of  hopes  that  now  are  dead 

Forever. 
117 


TOO  LATE. 

THOU  comest,  Fate, 

Too  late. 

No  favor  now 

Canst  thou 

Bestow  on  me 

That  would  not  be 

A  mockery, 

Save  death ;  and  even  that  would  not 
Be  different  from  my  present  lot. 

118   - 


IN  MY  WAKEFUL  HOURS. 

OFTEN,  in  my  wakeful  hours, 
Fields  I  see  all  fill'd  with  flowers, 
Birds  and  brooks,  and  woodlands  green, 
Happy  hills,  and  skies  serene. 

Times  there  are,  again,  when  I 
See  dead  leaves  go  whirling  by, 
Gaze  upon  an  endless  wold, 
Gaze,  and  shiver  with  the  cold. 
119 


DEAD. 

NEVER  more  her  voice  will  ring 
Through  the  woodlands  in  the  spring. 
Never  more  her  hands  will  cull 
Fragrant  flowers  and  beautiful. 
Never  more  her  eyes  will  shine 
Eloquently  into  mine. 
Dead,  forever  dead,  is  she, 
Dead,  but  oh  !  not  dead  to  me. 

120 


MY  SWEET  LORRAINE,  MY  FAIR 
LORRAINE. 

MY  sweet  Lorraine,  my  fair  Lorraine, 

When  I  recall  the  hours 
I  passed  with  thee  in  wood  and  lea 

Among  the  birds  and  flowers, 
I  hear  thy  laugh,  thy  merry  laugh, 

And  on  thy  lips  I  press, 
My  sweet  Lorraine,  my  fair  Lorraine, 

A  lover's  long  caress. 

My  sweet  Lorraine,  my  fair  Lorraine, 

I  yearn  for  thee  and  weep, 
And  sacred  in  my  heart  of  hearts 

Thy  memory  I  keep  ; 
And  so  shall  come  when  life  is  done 

As  happy  to  thy  side, 
My  sweet  Lorraine,  my  fair  Lorraine, 

As  bridegroom  to  his  bride. 

121 


JOHN  ELIOT  BOWEN. 

DIED  JANUARY  3,  1890. 

HE  fought  with  death,  but  not  with  life,  in  vain, 
Of  men  the  noblest,  worthiest  of  love  ; 
And  death,  as  if  its  love  of  him  to  prove, 

Gave  not  to  him  but  us  to  bear  the  pain. 

122 


VISIONS. 

VILLANELLE. 

I  HAVE  only  to  close  my  eyes, 

Which  often  with  sadness  fill, 
And  before  me  sweet  visions  rise. 

To  see  under  summer  skies 

The  sheen  of  valley  and  hill, 
I  have  only  to  close  my  eyes. 

My  memory  backward  flies 

To  the  days  when  my  fortune  was  nil, 
And  before  me  sweet  visions  rise. 

Those  were  days  of  smiles,  not  of  sighs ; 

And  to  smile  even  now  at  will, 
I  have  only  to  close  my  eyes. 
123 


Yes ;  the  past,  that  was  happy,  supplies 

Me  now  with  pleasures  that  thrill, 
And  before  me  sweet  visions  rise. 

Death,  when  I  think  of  the  ties 
That  bind  me  to  hearts  that  are  still, 

I  have  only  to  close  my  eyes, 

And  before  me  sweet  visions  rise. 


END. 


Cupple*  preitf :  Lofton. 

PRINTED   BY  J.   G.   CUPPLRS  COMPANY. 


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